As a child, I had a happy family, but everything changed when we had a car accident. Being only ten at the time, I don’t remember it well; just value memories of a night-time drive on a country road and the car rolling several times. What was apparent, even then, was that my two older brothers were dead, my parents were badly banged up and I walked away with hardly a scratch. My father lay at the edge of death for some months, and we were told to expect the worse, but my father was a big, tough bastard and he unexpectedly pulled through. He spoke with a weak, stuttering voice, and was able to walk with help but he was not able to dress or bathe himself. We never talked about the crash, so all these years later I am in the dark about what happened.
A pension meant we did not starve; we were comfortable but had no money for luxuries. Uncles and aunts were frequently around to lend a hand, but mum, with my help, became dad’s carer and we became a good team. I would help with the moving or dressing dad and as I got a little older, doing this gave her a little respite. She had enough confidence in me that she was able to go out and socialise a little in the evening, and that made me feel I was making a real contribution to the family. As a result of the accident and the physical strain of helping dad, mum had intermittent problems with her left arm. In the cold weather her arm and hand would seize up and she would need help herself. There were times when I had to help her get dressed and undressed. At a younger age, helping her with her buttons and zips or bra clips was not a problem, but as my teenage years continued, we both became a little uncomfortable. She tried to make light of the situation, but we were getting more embarrassed. One evening when I was about sixteen, mum needed help getting undressed. As I was unbuttoning her blouse, I got an erection. She pretended not to notice as I tried to hide the bulge in my pants. After we removed the blouse, she turned her back to me. She was standing there, waiting for me to unsnap her bra, and trying to be casual about it but there was none of the usual, uncomfortable banter. That was the last time she came to me for help.
A few years later my mother had her 50th birthday. Dad had turned fifty the previous year, but he was adamant that he did not want a party. We had a subdued party with a couple of friends and a handful of uncles and aunts. After the party, we got dad to bed, then mum did some cleaning up while I threw the rubbish in the bin. I went to bed as mum headed off to have a shower. A moment later I heard a crash and rushed out to see my mother sitting on the bathroom floor crying. She had been trying to undress without help and had fallen over. I tried to comfort her, but all she wanted was to have a shower and go to bed. She looked at me sadly and I asked her if she needed some help to undress.
She was in a dress, so I unzipped her and gently slipped her left arm through the sleeve and held the dress so she could slip her right arm out. She tugged at the front of her dress, let the dress fall to the floor and stepped out of it. I tried to be clinical about it, but I was a virgin and seeing my mother in her underwear was having a major effect on me. In my mind, a 50-year-old was ancient, but mum’s body was still shapely and very appealing. Her back was still toward me, and she asked me to undo her bra. Hesitantly, I unclipped it and turned to walk out of the bathroom. She dropped her bra, reached forward to turn the tap and yelped in pain. I turned toward her to find her standing there wearing only her knickers and holding her left shoulder. Her breasts were exposed, and I could not take my eyes off them. She covered her breasts with her left arm as we stood looking at each other. Blushing, I turned away and adjusted the water temperature of the shower. When my back was turned, mum removed her knickers and by the time I turned back, she was standing there holding her crumbled dress in front of her naked body.
We stood facing each other, neither knowing what to say. Mum looked down at my bulging jeans, then back at my face. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. It looked as though she was waiting for me to leave, instead, I took half a step toward her. With that one movement, mum took a deep breath and lowered her dress, exposing her breasts. I took another half step forward and she dropped her dress completely. Without thinking I reached out and cupped my mother’s breast. She sighed and pushed my hand more firmly against herself. Her hand moved tentatively to the front of my jeans and her fingers rubbed my erection. She looked deeply into my eyes, threw her arms around my neck, and kissed me. The bathroom steamed up and our kissing became more frantic.
Without stopping our kissing, my clothes disappeared, and I could feel my mother’s naked body pressing against mine. She dragged me to the bathroom floor and pulled me on top of her. I looked down at her beautiful face and she looked up at me; no words were needed. She reached down between us and guided my penis into her. She gasped as I thrust into her. Wordlessly, I thrust into her. Wordlessly, she wrapped her legs around me and thrust back. After only a minute or so I knew that I could hold off any longer and I started to come. When I came back to my senses, I had collapsed onto my mum’s naked body, she was stroking my hair and whispering that everything was alright. Not wanting to cause her any pain by continuing to crush her into the tiled floor, my first instinct was to take my weight on my hands and knees, but she had other ideas. Again, she said that it was alright. She tightened her grip with her legs, wrapped her arms around my head, and began kissing me again. My penis was quickly going limp, but my mother kept gently grinding herself against me. Despite her best efforts, my penis slipped out of her.
Once again, she whispered that it was alright. She loosened her legs and guided my head to her nipple. Needing no further encouragement, I started to suck her nipple and nuzzle her breast. She then took my hand, put it between her legs and began rubbing herself with my fingers. I could feel the warmth and slickness of my semen as my fingers slid inside her. She moaned softly as the bathroom filled up with steam. She moaned again and whispered encouragement and urged me to thrust faster. I stopped sucking her nipple and look at her. Her eyes were closed, her back arched and she was breathing hard. The sight of my sexy mother like this was making me hard again. I started watching my fingers sliding in and out of her and her fingers danced over her clitoris. I wanted to give her the pleasure she gave me. She reached down between my legs and found that my penis was hard again.
She opened her eyes, looked at me and said that she wanted me inside her again. I positioned myself above her once more but this time needing no guidance. My mother began to coo softly as I began thrusting at a steady pace. The second time I had more control, and I was less concerned about my pleasure, so I was able to watch my mother’s face as we made love. Her eyes were closed, her face was flushed, and she was biting her lip. She was so beautiful. On impulse, I reached over and began to massage her breast and pinch her nipple. Her eyes snapped open, and she let out a long moan. Her hands grasped my buttocks and urged me to go faster. The faster I went, the louder she moaned. I felt her hand push between us as she began to stroke herself. I heard her gasp and say that it had been such a long time then her body started to twitch. She was looking into my eyes as she was having her orgasm and, to this day, it was the most wonderful thing I had ever seen. Then, without warning, my second orgasm overtook me.
The next thing I knew we were wrapped around each other, gasping for breath in the steam-filled room. I tried to kiss her again, but she pulled away. Without looking at me, she stood up and stepped into the shower. I stood up, not knowing what to do, but she reached out her hand and led me into the shower. No words were said as we bathed together. She gave me one last kiss, stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around herself and left the bathroom without saying a word.
***
My father is long dead, and my mother is now in her 90s. She has dementia and lives in a nursing home. We never made love again. We hardly ever even touched again after that night. Over the years, we never spoke about what happened, so to this day, I don’t know what she thought. I drop in and see her as often as I can even though I know she doesn’t recognise me anymore. I hold her hand, talk softly to her about nothing, and hope that she was not ashamed of what we did that night. Over the years, I have seen her looking at me when she thought I was not paying attention and I would see that she was smiling. I hope that was a good sign.